The cart wheel rose up, the horses
leaped forward, and the big timber cart was out of its plight.
Flames and smoke poured out of the hole again. The rain dashing
upon and into the aperture could not entirely quell the stronger
element. But the wagon was safe, and so, too, were the two
cousins.
Tom was rather painfully burned and Nan began to cry about it.
"Oh! Oh! You poor, poor dear!" she sobbed. "It must smart you
dreadfully, Tommy."
"Don't worry about me," he answered. "Get aboard. Let's get out
of this."
"Are you going home?"
"Bet you!" declared Tom. "Why, after this rain stops, this whole
blamed place may be in flames. Must warn folks and get out the
fire guard."
"But the rain will put out the fire, Tom," said Nan, who could
not understand even now the fierce power of a conflagration of
this kind.
"Look there!" yelled Tom, suddenly glancing back over her head as
she sat behind him on the wagon tongue.
With a roar like an exploding boiler, the flames leaped up the
heart of the hollow tree. The bursted crust of the sawdust heap
had given free ingress to the wind, and a draught being started,
it sucked the flames directly up the tall chimney the tree made.
The fire burst from the broken top.
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